Forever Bound By Hope
by nillawaferzz
Summary: Natalie is a thirteen year old girl, struggling to survive in a place where survival, for a girl like her, is as close to impossible as it can get. At the young age of seven, Natalie appeared here, not sure who she even was, and has struggled to survive ever since then. To what extent will Natalie go to to survive in such a brutal place such as this?


**Hi :) Quick author's note: excuse this being in the Assassin's Creed Genre, I wasn't quite sure where to put this. This story is not some kind of creepy pasta story where Natalie turns into a psychopathic killer, she becomes an *SPOILER ALERT* assassin. I haven't included the characters of the actual Assassin's Creed game into my story, so please bear with me and read along if you want to see what happens.**

**Criticism and/or suggestions is always welcome in the comments. Tell me what you think of the story and if you think I should continue with it. In reality, this is just a tester story and I'm going to continue publishing the next chapters if someone actually wants me to. Thanks for reading 3 any bit of help welcomed. Anyways, enjoy.**

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Epilogue:

I think I remember a face.

Blurry ones, flashing by, just barely visible. Faces that I couldn't recognize, that I didn't even know who's they belonged to.

The things that weren't blurry in the least bit were memories. Little ones that shouldn't have mattered but made my heart ache with wistfulness.

I remember I had a best friend. She and I were inseparable, like sisters. Hers is the face that I'm missing. We were like opposites. She was passionate about the strangest things to me: dolls and tea parties and dresses and things. I was caught up in a world that she thought was just as strange, one with swords and adventures and dragons. She never understood why I liked any of these things, nor did she take part in my interest with them, but she was always there to be enthusiastic of the things I was excited about. In fact, the only thing we had in common was our names.

Natalie.

Both of our names were the same. Not only were we sisters, we were twins. I can't say I was happy to not be distinguished as another person that her, but I would do anything to spend time with her.

Natalie.

Nowadays, the only thing I have other than memories and our names is a necklace. I have no idea where it came from, or how it showed up on my neck, but that day when I woke up in the middle of the alleyway, not sure where I was, that was the only thing that gave me hope.

The necklace is a deep blue color, shining like the ocean, or how I imagine the ocean to have looked like. I don't know how much it's worth, but it's priceless to me. The necklace is the only thing that I can grasp from my mysterious past.

I'm not sure where I came from. All I know is that one day I woke up in an alleyway, alone, stripped of almost all of my past and my happiness. I was dressed in a simple t-shirt and shorts, wearing no shoes, and I was very aware of my stomach, nagging at me to buy food.

At that time, when I was only seven years old, I was lost in a world full of dangers. Peril stopped me at every turn, or so it seemed from my point of view.

After a day of wandering about and refusing to give up and cry for help, I eventually decided to go with my last resort: stealing. I knew it wasn't right, but I knew it was what I had to do to live through at least a day.

After my first theft, I realized that this way of life was my only way of survival. So I stole a pair of clothes. I can't explain the guilt I had over these decisions, but I didn't know what else to do. Plus, with me being so small, it was easy for me to elude the store owners.

From then on, I took whatever option I could to survive. I refused help from anyone, not wanting to trust or put my faith and hope in them for fear they would betray me. As I grew older, the defiance only grew, and soon enough I was stealing every day, seeing posters of my face pasted around town, seeing the fear of people when they saw me.

I had to learn to live on my own at a young age. It wasn't just the plain hardness of getting any food that weighed me down, though. The thought of not having anywhere to call home, the thought of not having anyone to care for me or even be there with me was the most discouraging of it all. I wished it was different, that I could just be like any other kid, but I accepted that my wish was hopeless.

Eventually, after seeing the hate and rage of all the people's faces when they saw me, I'd come to accept that this glare is the look that everyone would confront me with. I worked on my facial expressions and would glare at them with the same malice, only to be overpowered by stones and bricks. Wherever I was, I learned that they wouldn't care if I was just a kid. They would do whatever it took to protect their selfish selves.

Another thing that I learned to do unwillingly was fight. It wasn't safe for me on the streets, especially at night, when the town opened up to the true evils inside. I had to do whatever was necessary to keep myself from harm. Even if it meant killing.

Killing is one thing that plagued me with a guilt much higher than the other regrets. I didn't even have much to kill with, but I'd stolen a hunting knife and made do with it. I had no choice other than to kill and fight. If I didn't, I wouldn't be alive to tell the story today.

When I first killed someone, the guilt was so overpowering that I was tempted to turn the blade towards myself and end it all. I hated the thought of taking things that weren't mine or hurting someone that didn't deserve it, but to kill someone was another matter altogether.

The man I killed was a drunk homeless person, mumbling something about demons and curses. He'd been yelling on the street corners and I just simply walked past him. I didn't know what tempted him to launch himself at me. 200 pounds flew towards me so fast I couldn't react. I wasn't even aware of what I was doing. I felt myself grab my knife from my belt and plunge it into the man's neck.

For a moment, I sat there, frozen, the corpse still warm on top of me, letting the emotions pour through me like a broken dam. A mixture of guilt, remorse, regret, and depression swirled around in my head so I could hardly even move. I was paralyzed by my feelings, as stupid as it sounds. Then I got up shakily, my hand trembling so hard that I thought I might drop the blood-stained knife, and hobbled off into the alleyway right next to the body.

I made sure no one was watching and dragged the dead man into the alleyway with me. The thick stench of liquor invaded my nose, but I refused to cover it. Shaking, I kicked the man over to a hidden place behind a trash can.

For another moment that I couldn't spare, I stared at him. He looked so helpless and sad. I felt terrible, and I cursed myself to do this. But I didn't have a choice. He would've murdered me or raped me or both. What was done was done, I thought as I bit my lip. I'd told myself to not cry, but here I was, tears streaming down my face in waterfalls. I didn't even know the man. But I'd deprived him of something he rightfully had.

His life.

For the next few years, I lived on my own still. I continued to live with my ever-growing pile of guilt, but I constantly shoved it to the back of my mind so I could keep on doing the only thing that I could do at that time.

Survive.


End file.
